The Biggest Little Farm depicts eight years in the lives of California couple John and Molly Chester as they leave a cozy Santa Monica existence for a bold, risky shot at running their own farm. Directed by John Chester himself, the ultimately uplifting doc has true grit and doesn’t settle for easy sentiment.

Viewers will sympathize with the Chesters right off the bat, learning that their business venture to build Apricot Lane Farms from the ground up began as a promise to their adorable raven-haired, blue-eyed mutt, Todd. The pooch had separation anxiety, as many do, and his barking got the Chesters evicted from their small Santa Monica apartment. At the time, John was a wildlife cinematographer, and Molly was a food blogger and private chef. Upon rescuing the dog from a neglectful hoarder, they promised their home would be his last.

John and Caya in THE BIGGEST LITTLE FARM (Neon)

So, the three packed up and went after a dream. The Chesters bought 200 acres of land an hour outside of Los Angeles. With the help of farming guru Alan York, they set out to sustain an old-fashioned, organic and idealistic farm in perfect harmony, one where everything serves a purpose and the circle of life is omnipresent.

On paper, this looks like it should be a transparent commercial for Apricot Lane Farms and their products. Not so. The Biggest Little Farm is a proper film with dramatic oomph. It works because the Chesters come off as so genuine—and the filmmaking is pretty terrific, rarely shying away from showing us the brutality and violence of farm life.

The farm is certainly photogenic, and Chester’s photography is ingenious, crystalline and filled with feeling (if you don’t catch it on the big screen, this would be a great title for showing off your home theater). He has a gift for capturing animals’ unique personalities. My favorites were Emma the stubborn, ginormous pig—and Greasy, a nervous rooster who is basically her boyfriend.

Todd in THE BIGGEST LITTLE FARM

For the first little chunk of Biggest Little Farm‘s running time, it feels like we’re in for an uncommonly well-photographed cute animal fest, which would have been fine enough. But then the Chesters start to face genuine perils—among them predatory coyotes, sickness and the elements—and the doc gets flat-out gripping. An opening animated sequence is an uncomfortable fit, too cutesy and cuddly for a documentary that gradually earns our respect with appropriate intensity.

The Biggest Little Farm reveals unexpected psychological and social depth as well. Along the way, the Chesters stumble upon some pretty profound universal truths: There are always things that are out of our control. There is no such thing as perfect harmony. It’s learning to grow and thrive in the disharmony that’s the key.

The Biggest Little Farm is a winner. The fast-paced 91-minute feature doesn’t go as deep as it could have as a series, and some of the most uncomfortable truths of farm life—for instance, the killing and butchering of animals for food—are only mentioned, not shown. But make no mistake, this is illuminating, even riveting real-life entertainment the whole family can enjoy and learn something from.

AMG/Parade Digital

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